…a lifestyle blog telling the stories that make up my life with five girls and one boy and a husband who tags along.

Evidence

There is no doubt that being a mom is hard. It’s full of laundry and dirty dishes and diapers and sometimes poop gets on your freshly cleaned sweatshirt. If you hate clutter like me, it’s full of constant picking up. CONSTANT. It’s full of countertop cleaning and lunch making and sweeping followed by swiffering.

But while the kids are at school and the babies are napping, you find evidence of those tiny people in the most random spots.

(a tiny wooden rattle under the dining room table)

(see that little orange game piece? you’ll find that in the bathroom sink.)

(that Hawaiian bead necklace will eventually be spotted upstairs in the shower)

(there’s a pink blankie wedged in there)

(a cupcake sticker on my bathroom floor)

(an itty bitty moccasin balancing on our footboard)

And you smile.

Because you remember that in 10 years, you won’t be picking up toy rattles and Richard Scarry game pieces. Your living room will always be clean and spotless and you won’t be making school lunches because your youngest child at 11 years old will probably want to make her own…and your oldest at 18 will be eating on her college campus. The shoes you put away won’t be small enough to fit in your pocket and who knew that you’d miss the days of having baby poop on your clean sweatshirt?

My kids are growing up too fast and I’ve been reminded of it too often recently. Maria wants to research Japan and animal rights….not sing nursery rhymes and play peek a boo. I mean, duh, right? We want our kids to grow up and learn a million things and be good and kind citizens.

But sometimes it’d be nice to let the early years play out just a little bit longer.

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One thought on “Evidence”

When I was in elementary school, around 1960, I had to memorize a poem for class. I will never forget the one I chose, and it is applicable to this post. I love your site and think you will appreciate the poem.
Patty Poem by Nick Kenny
She never puts her toys away, just leaves them scattered where they lay. I try to scold her, and I say “You make me mad!
But when to bed she has to chase, the toys she left about the place remind me of her shining face and make me glad.
When she grows up and gathers poise, I’ll miss her harum-scarum noise and look in vain for scattered toys, and I’ll be sad.